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He stepped closer and leaned toward me, placing his hand next to me on one of the tables.

I could have sworn my heart was about to leap out of my chest, especially when I inhaled the pleasant citrus scent.

“Let me guess,” he murmured hoarsely. “The Councils are keen on your baby?”

Our baby…

If eyes could penetrate a person’s soul, his were about to leave deep holes. And it was only a matter of time before he found the truth in them.

I scraped together the last remnants of my rationality and held his gaze.

“According to them, it's the child spoken of in the prophecy.”

He chuckled softly. A sound that set the hairs on my arms on high alert.

“That ridiculous prophecy.”

“You know about the prophecy?” I forced myself to continue.

If I didn't talk, I would lose the battle against his closeness, his insistent manner, his masculinity...

“I have studied the Quatura and their scriptures,” he murmured, pulling back, even turning away from me, which gave me a chance to catch my breath and turn my brain back on. “I know about your rituals, the gods, the strict hierarchies and roles, your grotesque customs, the ridiculous prophecy... and your fear of the dark practices.”

So, he had somehow had access to a copy of the prophecy...

“Which brings me to the next topic.” He reached for the closed tome that had been resting on the edge of his desk until now. “I hope you have something to write with. Today, I will introduce you to the written language of Umbra.”

That came... unexpectedly.

However, I didn't hesitate for long but walked over to my locker to pull the black notebook Professor Copeland had given us at the beginning of the first semester out of my backpack, before I returned to Quentin, who was sorting through his papers.

When I opened the notebook on the table, I landed on the page where I had started writing down questions about Quentin.

Now the first question sat temptingly on the first line.

“A question...” I began without hesitation. “What exactly did you inject yourself with a few weeks ago?”

The mere memory of his naked, toned upper body and the countless prominent veins on his taut skin, not to mention his black eyes, made the tingling sensation in my chest return.

“I'd still like to lynch you for spying on me,” Quentin snorted without even glancing at me.

“How kind of you, Professor,” I laughed softly.

Quentin paused. As I had anticipated, he slowly turned to me, his lips pressed together.

But instead of being afraid, I had to smirk.

If I had known what a drama queen Erik was...

“Save that threatening look, Quentin,” I replied boldly. “I’m not afraid of you.”

I bit my tongue.

Had I gone too far?

I expected him to verbally attack me, to continue punishing me with his glances, but he just stared, which made me look back at the notebook with the other hundred questions, feeling uncertain.

“Laylan,” he finally said. “Something that allows me to work more efficiently with Umbra.”